


The Strength to Grow

by CooingCrow



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 10 year time skip, Angst, F/F, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Ferdinand and Hubert put the romance in bromance, Fluff, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Moving On, Parenthood, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slow Burn, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CooingCrow/pseuds/CooingCrow
Summary: It has been ten years since the war's end and the Empire has prospered well. Edelgard completed her task in creating a society that no longer relies on crests. Now she is recovering from completing her greatest challenge yet, letting go of the power. Fortunately she is not alone as there is a new light that keeps the darkness of her insecurities at bay.The story will be focused between Edelgard, Byleth, Hubert, and their kids. It will be covering topics such as approaching polyamory, trangenderism, and learning to cope with the past. There is a chance the story may grow out of its slice of life phase and is best to keep in mind I intended for a mature audience.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth/Hubert von Vestra, My Unit | Byleth/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Little Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImaginaryBread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginaryBread/gifts).



> This would be my first fan fiction I have written since probably 2005 in the 9th grade where I had a really interesting English teacher have us write essentially Romeo and Juliet but as a fan fic. Still, I love these characters and I wanted to spring board off of my appreciation of them and my desire to write content that I would personally like to see more of.
> 
> The story doesn't start off as M for Mature but I want to assign it as such at the start to give me the flexibility to decide when I have a better feeling about what I'm comfortable writing. It is most likely going to go in this direction though.
> 
> Also I'm gifting this to you, ImaginaryBread. I was content on reading fan fiction but your work inspired me to try and your attitude was uplifting. (I also hope I'm using the gift feature right)

Just outside the city of Enbarr where the buildings end and the rural begins stood the Vestra manor. Three stories high, it towered like a small castle. Its roofs were tall and angular, and pointed arches decorated the space around windows. Occasionally rooms on the second story led out into balconies with seating arrangements at the ready. In one such room rested Edelgard von Hresvelg.

Her room was appropriate for one such as her. Large and spacious, full of furniture created from some of the finest craftsmen. Elegant details and patterns were etched on the archway leading to the balcony, which was locked tight. Then there was the bed, where you would think there would be neat tidy bedding and an abundance of fluffy pillows, instead looking more like a battleground. Blankets kicked off, most of the pillows on the floor, and sheets half covering a petite woman with alabaster hair that looked to be in severe need of brushing. Even though she was awake, her eyes were heavy as she fought to hold them open.

As on most nights, she had nightmares. The ones where she watched her siblings get tormented and killed in the confines of a dark and horrible place, her captors then turning their attention towards her. The nightmares were worse tonight. A dull pain and fatigue gave no illusion as to why. She slowly straightened herself up as she lay in bed, turning away from her curled position. The pain was always worse in the mornings, no doubt due to her thrashing.

It had been ten long years since the war had ended and many advancements had been made in the research of crests. She had just finished a very long operation and treatment to remove her second crest, and even after weeks, she was still rehabilitating. Her anxiety had engulfed her during the whole process and it took some tremendous effort from her former teacher Byleth to counsel and prepare her for the road ahead. To be under the knife again, even with trusted surgeons, seemed a near impossible task for her to fulfill, but she did it.

Now she was here, resting in the Vestra manor with the two people she trusted and possibly needed the most while she recovered during this sensitive time. It would take a while before she could adjust. Being in fighting shape again didn’t look like it would be a possibility any time soon. Did she even have a need to be?

She sighed deeply. She wasn’t ready to unpack that yet. At the moment she at least appreciated the nightmares from earlier being over. The worst part of the day was done now. She needed only to get up and start her day.

She looked at her night stand and frowned. Her cane must have been knocked over last night from her thrashing. She began to make her way over to the edge of the bed and sure enough she made it there. She could see her golden cane had fallen next to the bed. She couldn’t quite reach it so she had to close the distance herself. Propping a hand on the nightstand, she worked to get her feet off the bed. She took a moment to breathe in before slowly guiding herself onto her feet.

Once she made it, she slowly tried to work herself down, reaching for the cane. Before she got there, her concentration got interrupted by the sound of tiny knocks from her door. The kind that would come from the small hands of a child, which suddenly pulled her attention to the windows to try to get an idea of the time. It was still quite early, from the looks of it.

The child spoke in a tentative, soft voice. “Auntie El, are you still sleeping? Auntie El?” They proceeded to knock softly again. “Helloooo?”

She recognized that voice anywhere. It was the youngest of the three Vestra children. Edelgard sat herself back down on the bed and called out. “Good morning, Edelin.”

It took a brief moment, but the door clicked open and was gently pushed aside. It was there where a 4-year-old Edelin von Vestra began to make their way into the room. Their short hair was as black as their father’s and messy, no doubt from just waking up. Their eyes were deep blue like the sea, and in them, Edelgard could only just scratch the surface of a world of imagination and wonderment. They still had their pajamas on, so she guessed he woke up on his own. It wouldn’t have been the first time they woke up early and tried to sneak into her room.

“Good morning, Auntie El,” they said, smiling as they played with their hands. Their gaze drifted down to the cane and pillows on the ground. His brows shot up at the discovery. “Uh oh!” Edelin rushed over, grabbing the cane and lifting it up. It was a bit heavy and unwieldy to the child, but Edelgard quickly reached over and met them halfway.

“Here you go!” he said as she took the cane from him. Edelgard smiled as her heart melted like butter. Out of the three, Edelin was the one with whom she had a special bond. The two had been a pair since Edelin’s birth.

As the boy began collecting pillows and throwing them on the bed, nostalgia swept her away. She was there when he was born. Edelgard could still clearly remember his mother sitting with a bundled up Edelin in her arms as she told her about the name.

“I’ve wanted a little Edelgard von Vestra from the beginning, to honor our friendship and to show what you mean to me, El.” Byleth said, smiling as she gazed at her sleeping child. “Unfortunately, we have a lot of work coming up and it might not be ideal to have more children. So we decided to call them Edelin.” She kissed her child on the forehead and cooed, “You can still be our little El, right Edelin?”

“All done!” Edelin’s declaration snapped Edelgard’s attention back to the present. The child looked proud of their accomplishment.

“That was fine work Edelin, but why are you up so early?” she cocked her eyebrow, curious as to what he was up to.

“Mommy said you were sick. Are you still sick, Auntie?” he asked, looking at her inquisitively. He put a hand on her knee for support and with the other reached as high as he could on his tippy toes towards Edelgard’s head. She laughed and leaned down to let him feel her forehead.

Her gaze softened as she watched Edelin. “I’m afraid so. It’s going to be for awhile I believe.” 

He frowned, obviously disappointed in that. Then his face brightened. “But that means you will stay longer, right?”

He finally lowered his hand and Edelgard leaned back up, her muscles pulling awkwardly from the strange posture. “I suppose you are correct. How observant.”

He reached into his pocket, fished out a piece of paper, and gave it to Edelgard. It was folded up as well as one would expect a 4-year-old could handle, making it almost a paper ball.

“Oh, what’s this? A gift?” She carefully unfolded the page as best she could. On it was a large red scribble with no discernable image. It was like they tried to scribble out the entire page with a coloring pencil.

Edelin leaned in, cupping his hand like he was trying to share a secret. “That’s my favorite color.” He pushed her hand to press the paper closer to her chest. “It makes me feel good. I want you to keep it Auntie. It's going to make you feel good too.”

Before she had a chance to thank him, Edelin scurried off in a hurry. “I’m gonna get Walden! He’ll make us breakfast!”

“E-Edelin, it’s too early!” He was already gone. She couldn’t chase after him even if she wanted to. Instead she looked at the gift he gave her. The sentiment was both touching and adorable.

Her stress and her tormenting dreams had no purchase when Edelin was around. Much like his mother, he was a light that chased away the darkness that clouded her. She remembered the first time they snuck into her room. He had caught a glimpse of her scars when she was still waking up and when he did he had run away.

She was worried she had scared the boy. In that period of time she felt awful and felt like she must have looked like a scary monster to him. Instead, Byleth had run into the room minutes after preparing white magic thinking there was some sort of attack. She had clearly rushed out of bed expecting danger.

They had to explain to a sniffling Edelin that his aunt wasn’t in any danger. That turned into a lesson about scars and what bandages could and could not fix. It was a delicate talk, as they didn’t want to lie to the child about why her aunt had all these scars, but they clearly couldn’t tell him everything. Edelin had been overprotective of his aunt ever since.

Edelgard sighed. There was no reason to delay getting up now. She put the drawing on her nightstand and with her cane she was properly able to push herself up. It would get easier through the day, but the mornings always took their toll. She would probably be better off if she could get a decent night's sleep, but that was asking for a lot.

She had more going on than a crest removal recovery. In a way, it boiled down to power, or the lack thereof. Edelgard had built herself up and trained harder than anyone else to stay on top. Even with a two crest advantage, there were never any guarantees. Still, she did everything she could to make sure she was ready.

However, there did come a point when her path did in fact end. The system they had developed didn’t require her guidance anymore. They had established a strong governing body and were entering a new world she couldn’t keep up with. They didn’t need an Emperor anymore.

She had reached a critical crossroad in her life. She had to choose between letting go of what made her powerful or holding onto it until it finally destroyed her. Crest or title, the longer she held onto the power, the harder it was going to be to let go. It was easier to say during the war to her friends that she was going to give it all up when she had set the world right. When it actually came time though, she found it difficult. To suddenly lessen the iron grip on society that she had struggled her whole life to grasp and become as politically impotent as her father near the end of his rule? It was a leap of faith, and she had yet to see if she would be caught.

She realized her knuckles had gone white from the tight grip she now had on her cane.  _ Easy now _ , she thought to herself. She took a deep breath and loosened her grip. She had surrounded herself with good people. The war effort only went the way that it did because of her trust on others. That reliable man who had been with her since the beginning and that radiant woman who pierced through her darkness, and all the people that were attracted and guided by her light. They were the ones who taught her she didn’t need to shoulder the burden alone anymore. She knew in her heart of hearts that her time had come.

Now she needed to find a purpose beyond her original path. She needed a new goal.


	2. Pop Quiz

The smell of old books was never an aroma Byleth could see herself getting bored of. It permeated the air, along with just a dash of a nutty and bitter scent from her coffee. The Vestra family library was stacked tall with books. It was much larger than the library she was used to seeing in Garreg Mach; this one expanded onto a second floor with a balcony that opened up into a small seating area, if one wished to read while feeling fresh air. 

_It was her library,_ she reminded herself.

Some days were easier than others when it came to remembering that all of this was also hers. Before marrying Hubert she had never owned a house, let alone a manor. Garreg Mach was the closest that came to stable living, if you could call it that. What was the peak of luxury for her then now felt like a cramped space. She had admittedly become a tad spoiled. Her current bedroom made her old dorm feel like she used to live in a closet yet for the longest time it had felt like all of this was a dream, that at any point she would wake up in her dorm trying to catch the wispy memories of this lucid reality of hers. No doubt being late to her own seminar.

Then that bitter and sweet taste of coffee with its dash of cream would hit her tongue, waking her senses fully up. It turned out that she was still sitting at her table reading. The drink gave her mixed feelings of happiness and annoyance. Sure, she was happy to remember this was not a dream, but then she’d be reminded of her newfound reliance on the warm brew. Coffee was never really something she found an appeal for, but when you marry a man who is a connoisseur for it, his addiction will in time become your addiction. She would break herself from it sooner or later. At least, that’s what she kept saying.

She turned her attention back to her books. Her focus was on two books, both the same titles but with the key difference of being written in different languages. The books were called ‘Etiquette and Ancestors’. One was a copy that she could actually read and the other was written in Brigid’s language. In one of her political dealings, she had found a useful idea that she borrowed from this book. She had wanted to refer to it again while she drafted her own notes. 

Byleth had been attempting to teach herself the Brigid language, more out of interest as a hobby than as a need. She had had the opportunity to undergo some light coaching but she didn’t quite have the language down yet. This was particularly clear from the letters she exchanged with the Brigid Queen herself from time to time. Before she was crowned, she had been Petra, Byleth’s former student who had often had difficulty mastering Fódlan’s language. She could tell Petra had much enjoyment having the shoe be on the other foot for a change but was touched by her attempts all the same.

She could easily see where some of Petra’s confusion came from for their own language though, as the sentence structure in the Brigid language didn’t even come close to how they spoke and wrote in Fódlan. It was clear she had picked a difficult second language to learn. Taking the time to read up on the culture was helping her to fill in the gaps as to why they spoke the way they did, but it was still difficult to get down.

Byleth reached for her coffee to take another sip. She paused when she noticed the picture frame on her desk. She had almost forgotten about it, having just set it up yesterday. A delightful surprise that brought a smile to her face. It was one of Edelin’s masterpieces. They had gotten into some colored pencils with his aunt and had drawn a family portrait. She could tell that when they went to write the names they must have had Edelgard’s help, as the lines got a bit straighter.

The tall black stick figure with the large head and dark scratches over their right eye was “Daddy.” The blue lady next to him with the comically large hair was “Mommy.” To Hubert’s side she could see another smaller dark stick figure: “Ferdy.” Next to him was a difficult to see yellow scribble with knitted angry eyebrows and a smile. “Jerry.” She could imagine Edelin and his aunt laughing when they came up with that one. Jeralt was not very enthused.

Finally there were two figures next to Byleth’s image holding hands. Both were red, one being clearly Edelgard if the masterfully drawn scribbles of a dress were any indication. The other was Edelin who was also drawn with the same color. It would seem that Edelin had given themselves a matching scribble dress. “Big Ely and little Ely.”

A frown crept across Byleth’s lips as she took a closer look at the picture. How come she didn’t get a scribble dress?

Her line of thought was interrupted by a soft knocking at the door. “Lady Vestra?” a soft dry voice called. _Walden? My goodness he’s up early,_ Byleth thought to herself. “You may enter.” Byleth set her books aside to make room. As she did, the house steward entered. Walden was an older man in his mid 50s who was short and stood just about at Byleth’s height. He had a small set of spectacles resting clearly in his coat pocket that he began to fish out with his open hand. His other arm held a stack of folders. He licked his dry lips as he placed his glasses on, giving the note on the documents a read.

“Delightful news Lady Vestra, it would seem that the school has accepted your request. They have taken the liberty of forwarding you the information regarding the available houses for next year.” Walden stepped forward, placing the documents on her desk. He looked at her drink. “Will you be requiring a refill, my Lady? I can get you a fresh pot.”

She shook her head but took immediate interest in the documents. “That won't be necessary Walden, I should really be sticking to just the single cup.” 

“Very well, Lady Vestra.” Walden bowed his head before taking his leave.

Byleth picked up one of the folders, feeling its weight. She would have quite a bit of reading to do but she had til the end of the summer to make her decision. Part of her still wondered if this was what she really wanted. Over the years she had spent a lot of time reading to understand the political structure of Fódlan. It was a subject she knew very little about at the beginning. She had to become an expert quickly if she herself was going to feel like a Vestra.

She smiled thinking about the early years. There was a deal between husband and wife that one would always be at Edelgard’s side when the other had to travel. In her time with Edelgard, she found their roles had reversed. No longer was she the stoic and seemingly all-knowing Professor that was famously revered. She knew nothing while Edelgard seemed to know all the answers. 

To make matters worse, she didn’t even get to keep her stoicism. Since Rhea’s defeat when her own Crest had vanished, her emotions had become stronger, powerfully so. It was like she had been living in a dull fog that suddenly cleared away, revealing a bright new world full of colors and sounds she had never experienced before. It wasn’t bad, she had a new outlet for things she didn’t know she needed an outlet for, but it took a while to learn how to reign it in. For the most part her emotions were like a laugh that went just a bit too long and ended with tears when the joke wasn’t quite nearly as funny.

It was under control for the most part; her extra emotions never caused any serious problems in their dealings in the past but rather opened her up to some pretty humbling experiences. It probably took no more than a few exhilarating months. It wasn’t like she got carried away with it. 

Loud and sharp knocking shook her attention back to reality, then a familiar voice called behind the door. “Mom, Mom! Auntie El is up! Can we all go train today?”

A sigh deepened as she rested a hand on her forehead, remembering that her emotions did in fact carry her away. Her son was proof of that. _Humbled by my firstborn,_ she thought to herself. Some of their plans may have been rushed a little earlier than they had anticipated, not that she regretted it. She had only felt silly because of how out of control she was with her own heart. For years she tried to understand how the people around her would lose control of themselves and become a disaster, simply because the person they fancied looked at them a certain way. Now she understood, and her husband was never going to let it go.

Byleth had already lost interest in her books and felt it appropriate to stretch out her legs for a walk. She plopped the folder in her hand back down on the stack with the others and got up, careful not to forget the cup of her half finished drink. Opening her door was like opening the curtains to sunlight. Jeralt’s face was beaming with anticipation. 

When Jeralt was born, he already had a full set of hair. Blond was a surprise for the couple as it seemed the boy took more to his grandfather in that regard. He had inherited his father’s greenish-yellow eyes as well. Byleth was fond of the idea of being able to see the qualities of two of the most reliable and adored men from her life when she looked at her son.

Jeralt held a sword in his hands, one of her silvered ones at that. At least he remembered he wasn’t allowed to carry it around without it being in its sheath. 

However. “Honey, you know you're not supposed to dig through the collection without an adult, and weapons stay in the room unless we are training.”

Jeralt looked a bit upset by that. “But we don’t get to use the cool swords, we just keep using the wooden ones. I hate the wooden ones!”

“I know honey, but you're still young and most of these weapons are balanced and weighed for an adult.” She learned early with Jeralt that it was better to give him a logical answer he could chew on, rather than telling him he wasn’t skilled enough and could get himself hurt. How very much like his father. She smiled suddenly. “Pop quiz!”

Jeralt immediately tensed up, knowing what came next. It was Mom’s surprise when he got uppity. Passing could mean a reward, and failing could mean helping one of the maids with cleaning.

She raised one hand in a fist, extending her pinky, ring, and long fingers. “Hmm. name some of the dangers of using a large and unwieldy weapon.”

“You can… uhh. Oh! You can hurt your back or pull something!”

She dropped her middle digit, a sign that he answered correctly. “Good! Now tell me the advantages polearms have over swords.”

This one he seemed to immediately know. “Reach! Spears are longer and too thick to be broken or properly swatted away by swords.”

Now she dropped her ring finger, just a pinky’s question away from finishing the pop quiz. That made Jeralt nervous. Knowing Mom, the third was always a trick question.

Byleth’s smile broadened as she cocked her eyebrow. “Did you clean your room?”

“Moooom, that’s not a weapon question!” He exclaimed, yet she used it like a weapon all the same. 

“No,” he said, pouting a bit. “I don’t get why I have to, we have servants for that.”

Byleth kneeled down to look her son square in the eyes, her smile softening. Once Jeralt turned 9, they determined him fit to clean his own room and requested for the servants to not assist. 

“Regular cleaning builds discipline, Jeralt. Discipline is possibly the most reliable tool in one’s arsenal when one fights. Trust me, it will make more sense in time.”

She could tell that Jeralt was disgruntled but couldn’t find the words to refute. To redirect his attention, she reached out and touched the sword. “I remember this. It was from our first shipment of silver swords from our Garreg Mach days. There's an interesting story behind this one.”

He perked up at that, suddenly in awe of the random sword he pulled from their collection. “Really?”

“Yes, and you solved my pop quiz for the day so I’ll tell you all about it. I think you’ll like this story a lot.”

He had a look of confusion about him. “Wait. I thought I failed the third question?”

She reached over to ruffle his hair, “You answered it honestly and you were correct, even if the answer wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”

She knew that squinty-eyed look anywhere. The “Mom tricked me” look, but happier because it played in his favor.

“Come on.” She got back up, taking a quick sip of her coffee before stretching her legs a bit from the soreness of kneeling. “Let’s go check on Auntie El. She can help tell the story.” 

Jeralt looked up with excitement in his eyes. “Could I hear the story about the dragon you and Auntie El slayed too?” 

Byleth paused, a clear frown indicating that Jeralt might have just messed up. “Dragon? We were going to save that story for much later, who told you about that?”

“Uncle Ferdinand told me… I forgot he asked me not to talk about it.” Jeralt looked down apologetically and whispered to himself, “Sorry Uncle Ferdy.”

  
  



	3. Heart of Stone

The sound of hooves beating pavement filled the room inside the carriage. Despite its regality, there was no sound proofing the stomping of the large black beasts, especially ones like these who were far larger than other horses. They strode through the streets with a certain gravitas, as if they had awareness of their task and took pride in doing it. Little did they know, their efforts did not do much to appease their passengers. Inside sat a tall and brooding man, with wavy dark hair that trailed down the right side of his face just before his eye. His black suit was etched with a gold pattern that spun symmetrically across his chest and then again at the ends of his sleeves. In his hand he held a golden pocket watch with its own complex patterns that met in the center, where lines joined together beneath a proud double-headed eagle spreading its wings.

The man was known as Hubert von Vestra, and he was running late. Sitting across from Hubert was a younger man. His new assistant went by the name of Anton Weber and was wearing a similar suit to Hubert’s own design from his Garreg Mach days. The exception being that his suit was crimson instead of black, and on his shoulder rested a house leader’s cape. It was similar in design to Edelgard’s when she too was a student at the school. Anton was not from Garreg Mach like Edelgard though. His cape had also bore a draconic silhouette that represented his class, the Black Drakes. It was, no doubt, of Ferdinand’s design, after he had opened the Enbarr Officer Academy. It was perhaps a nod to Garreg Mach, since every other house wore the colors they were named after. 

Anton’s composure was much more relaxed compared to his mentor’s. Anton was leaning near the carriage window while resting his head to his hand. Daydreaming again, no doubt. Slipping his pocket watch away, Hubert found his eyes wandering out towards the city. Since the war’s end, Enbarr had felt more vibrant and alive. There was much more hustle to it, a busy economy with a rekindling in the common folks’ interest that led many to believe that this was an age of opportunity. Many people looked towards these new opportunities to satisfy more short term goals such as comfort and pleasure.

Others, like Anton and his family, saw it as something more. It was a chance to launch themselves even higher in the status quo, no longer hindered by the glass ceiling of a society built to value Crests. A chance for security and control of their own destiny, forged by their hard work. They got remarkably far for a family of weavers.

“I wasn’t expecting the main road to be this busy,” Hubert commented, finding it more appealing to talk to his assistant than stare at his watch. 

Anton smiled. There was a gentleness about the boy. He had short blond hair and blue eyes that reminded Hubert of Dimitri from time to time but the face was off. A smaller nose, thinner eyebrows, and a youthful boyishness to his face that it seemed he wouldn’t be outgrowing any time soon. Anton had once tried growing facial hair, but Hubert had demanded it be shaven off. The boy took too much pride in what barely counted as chin fuzz; he was liable to embarrass Hubert in court with such an ill-kept look.

“It is to be expected, Sir. The main road has only been getting busier with traffic flow. Less people are finding it necessary to yield to carriages belonging to you noble types.” 

That much felt true at least. “If my memory serves, your own family’s business is not terribly far from here.”

Anton’s focus adjusted to something outside and further away. “Actually, just down that street.” He pointed, a fondness creeping upon his lips.

“How is the family business?” Hubert asked casually. Hubert looked down at nothing in particular but his own gloved hand. Still, he could feel Anton’s interest piquing, already making Hubert regret asking.

“It’s going well, thanks for asking. I’m surprised you're interested.” Anton shifted to meet Hubert’s eyes with a wry smile but Hubert kept his eyes down, ignoring his stare. “Dear me, are you beginning to develop an interest in your student’s well-being? Are you feeling sick, Sir? Shall I call for you a doctor?”

Hubert scoffed at that. “On the contrary. A failing business would be troublesome for me down the line. You could end up stressed and perform mediocrely, or even worse, fall to the temptation of thievery. That would be quite a mess for me to clean.” Hubert finally looked up at Anton, meeting his gaze. Considering his lax expression, Hubert’s taunt did not seem to have much of an effect. Was he losing his bite or just becoming predictable? Goodness, which was worse?

“I care about your well-being too, Sir,” Anton said, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he returned his gaze to the outside. The two sat in silence for the rest of the ride, but not long after that, the hustle of the city began to lessen until it came to a complete stop where the city ended and the more rural part of Enbarr began. The sun was getting low but off in the distance they could see their destination at the peak of a hill. The Vestra Manor. It was not long before their carriage was parked and the door was opened by one of the manor’s attendants.

Hubert sighed as he pulled his pocket watch again to check the time. To his annoyance, he was still late. There were few things these days that truly agitated him more than not being punctual, especially since the war’s end. After a grueling campaign of rooting out Those Who Slither in the Dark, his focus these days had become delightfully political, instead of centering on war strategies and logistics. 

Despite Edelgard’s coming retirement, he had kept a governing role. In his own ways he would continue to oversee the country following the carefully laid path they had paved through with their conquest. 

This was all the more reason for his agitation when he found himself late for just about anything. They had spent so long building their Empire, to not fully be involved in an event felt like a waste. He wanted every advantage to maintain relations, to keep an ear out for trouble, and, in his own ways perhaps...  _ politely  _ nudge opposition back in line. This built a new bad habit of checking his watch rather frequently. 

Hubert rested his watch back in his pocket and looked down at his hands, giving his cufflinks a light adjustment and tightening his gloves. Without making eye contact, he spoke towards his attendant, Anton.

“How do I look?”

Wordlessly, Anton reached out, plucking a stray piece of fuzz on Hubert’s shoulder and flicking it away. “You are as dashing as ever, Sir, and only just a little late.”

“Hmph, I would have preferred to be home early. I suspect my dinner will be cold tonight.”

“Well.” Anton looked off to the side, drumming his notebook with his fingers and feigning sheepishness. “I did warn you about taking the main road at this hour.”

Hubert frowned and shot Anton with a chilling gaze, the same icy stare he had used to unnerve people hundreds of times before. Much to Hubert’s dismay, however, Weber had adapted quite well in his service with the Lord Vestra and remained unfazed. A small smile formed from Hubert’s lips, which Anton returned. He was taking perhaps a bit too well to him.

“Indeed you did.” At that, Hubert pushed himself up and stepped out of the carriage.

Before he got too far, Anton popped his head out and called out to Hubert. “Give Lady Vestra my regards!”

Hubert nodded at that. The carriage door was closed and had set off to take Anton back to the Academy dorms.

Hubert took note of the sound of his own footsteps as he walked along the entrance of his manor. The echoing yet sharp crispness of his steps meant it would be particularly difficult for someone else to sneak up on him. It wasn’t a concern that was on the forefront of his mind. No, this was more to appease the deep part of him that was always wary. The hawk. The part of him that was born the day Lady Edelgard was kidnapped. The reason behind the calm intensity in his eyes whenever he assessed people as threats or allies.

That part of him always made his job easier in protecting Edelgard but did little for his social life. A younger version of himself would scoff at the notion of needing such frivolities, as his duty was held higher than any bonds he could have built, but Garreg Mach changed him. No, rather it was the Professor, his wife, that changed him. She genuinely cared for her students, even outside of the classroom. She ate with them, guided them, fought for them, and maybe most importantly, listened to them.

Hubert was prepared from the beginning to build walls, to blackmail or kill, to learn what he could to help cripple or disarm his foes. For the longest time he had even prepared for it with the expectations that his own classmates would have to one day be dealt with. This was the resolve needed to guide her Majesty to the world she craved; there was no other way. He fully believed that too, until nearly every student he had been prepared to kill chose instead to join their side, or rather the Professor’s. 

Some had great reasons to join the Black Eagles and only needed a nudge; others were scared, but they trusted the Professor that what they were doing was right. Her kindness bought a deep-rooted loyalty that would make even heirs to the Kingdom and Alliance noble houses switch sides. 

How differently would things have gone if they had played a slower game and let the Professor in early? How many talented people could have been saved and used to build an even better Empire? How long ago was it when he finally started to care and think about such things?

Since his first born, he realized. Participating in creating a life for a change, rather than snuffing it out, rattled something fundamental in him that he felt previously was untouchable. He didn’t like thinking about that. The old him would never allow that sort of questioning, but with an age of peace and healing he couldn’t deny the truth: that woman was changing him more and more. Sometimes that terrified him greatly. 

At last he finally approached the room he was looking for and gave a light knock before letting himself in. He entered the lounging room and noticed a flame already crackling in the fireplace. The bar had been clearly used as he could see an uncorked wine bottle on the bar’s counter. Near the center of the room where the sofas came together was where he noticed his two favorite people resting idly. A table had been set up with a few choice selections of sweets that he recognized as being some of Lady Edelgard’s favorites.

The two smiled warmly and welcomed him, his wife the first to speak. “You took the main road, didn’t you?” she said knowingly. By the Goddess, he  _ was  _ becoming predictable. 

She stood up and leaned to kiss him. He met her half way. He was rewarded with soft lips and a sweet smell of… What was that? Some sort of citrus? No, he knew that aroma anywhere, the same aroma as his Lady’s favorite tea. A bergamot sort of perfume? So that was her game for tonight.  _ This is just plain silly, Professor. _

She leaned back, catching a glimpse of his eyes before sitting back down next to Edelgard. He could tell she knew what was running through his mind after he raised an eyebrow. She shrugged, giving him an innocent and painfully coy smile.

He gave a polite bow to Edelgard and then narrowed his eyes at his wife. “I see you have been talking to Anton. He sends his regards.” 

She nearly giggled at that. His professor was always a difficult person to read, but ever since her changes after Rhea’s defeat, that neutrality began to slip away. As she said, it was like her emotions had been dulled but suddenly they were alive and thrumming. Her unbreakable poker face had finally met its end but it never gave him a clear advantage over her. She had also gotten to a point where she could read him like an old test paper. Ready to grade him and tell him what he did right or wrong. She was perfect.

“How are the children?” Hubert asked. Edelin wasn’t there, so he assumed that at least he was put to bed already.

“Already sleeping.” Byleth swirled her drink around in her glass. “Let’s see. Edelin woke up early and Jeralt had a busy day today. They tired themselves out. Then of course there’s Ferdinand. I think he ate a bit too much and got drowsy. He is also in bed sleeping.”

“Hmmm.” Hubert raised his hand to briefly rub his chin. He noticed his other hand had been tapping on his pocket, feeling his pocket watch. He resisted the urge to check it. “It would appear I just missed them.”

Edelgard spoke up. “Speaking of children, how is the assistant our fair Prime Minister sent us? I imagine that poor boy must be running ragged trying to keep up with you.”

“On the contrary, he is holding out better than you would expect,” Hubert began as he walked towards the bar in search of his own drink. “I must admit that I had my doubts when this suggestion was first proposed. A commoner making his way to the top of a class for a new school with no prior credentials? A chance opportunity brought about by what could best be described as a plea from an old friend to give him a chance? That sort of background doesn’t instill a lot of confidence in me.”

Hubert spotted what he was looking for and pulled a bottle of brandy before reaching for a glass. “I was certain I would do away with him after the first week. To find out that wasn’t going to be the case was… a pleasant surprise, I should say.”

“He’s like the son he’s never had,” his wife teased.

Hubert narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

Edelgard raised a handkerchief to her lips as if to wipe something away. He recognized it immediately as her old covering habit when she needed to quickly hide a smile or stifle a laugh. She was trying her best to be polite to Hubert.

“Hmph, you would be one to talk anyways, Professor. I can at least attest that I have no intentions of marrying the boy later.”

Edelgard dropped her attempt to reserve her giggle which in turn made the Professor blush. Now she was the one to narrow her eyes at her husband. “That’s not fair. I was there for less than a year, and we got together years after the war broke out.”

Hubert caught Edelgard’s expression in the corner of his eye and it admittingly egged him on to push a bit further. “Yes, I wonder how quickly you would have expedited that were it not for your 5-year beauty sleep,” he retorted. He swiftly poured himself a glass and raised it, punctuating himself with a nod and a smile.

His wife frowned and then paused. She wasn’t going to let him take control and steer her further into things she had no control of at the time. Edelgard merely kept quiet and sipped her wine, obviously enjoying the banter between her two favorite people.

After a moment of silence, Hubert thought it wise to adjust tactics so as not to upset his wife more. “If you must know, I do find this mentorship with Weber to have a rather cathartic charm to it.”

Edelgard perked up. “Cathartic? How so?”

“He’s living proof that our system is working. Do you think a mere commoner would have been able to do what he is doing back when the nobility system had more power? Shadowing someone close enough to our government's inner workings that he can see the ink still drying on documents concerning new laws and legislations?” 

Hubert moved to sit himself across from Edelgard and his wife on the opposing sofa. He took a sip of his brandy. It was a tad bit too sweet for his palate but he himself wasn’t really much of a drinker to begin with. The collection was more for guests, and he had not experimented much outside what was given to him by others.

“Weber is only the first of a new generation of up and coming politicians. Funded entirely by the meager funds of his family’s weaving business. If more commoners keep arising and are even close to being like the sort of man that Weber is becoming, then the future is looking more and more interesting.”

Hubert sighed, looking towards his wife. “Do not tell him I said that, love.”

His wife appeared to be thoughtfully considering something but wouldn’t say one way or the other if she intended to tell him. No doubt using it as a playful bartering chip for later. That was his own fault for encouraging their silly games, he supposed. 

Edelgard held a soft smile and seemed lost in thought as she stared into her drink. She seemed genuinely happy at Hubert’s sentiment. “To think that some of the seeds we have sown are already beginning to bear such fruits.”

“All thanks to you, your Majesty,” Byleth said as she raised her wine glass towards Edelgard’s and clinked it. She gave her a wink before bringing her own vice up to her lips.

Before she could give her response, she was interrupted by a knocking at the door. The three of them turned to the doorway, curious as to who could be knocking this late.

The voice on the other side spoke and they could tell it was Walden who knocked. “I beg your pardon, Lady Vestra, but is Lord Vestra with you?”

Hubert set his drink on the table and got up. “Indeed I am, you may enter.”

When the door opened it suddenly made sense why Walden required his attention, as a sleepy Ferdinand von Vestra stood before Walden, still in his pajamas. Six years of age and soon to be seven, the boy had long and black messy hair. It was a far cry from how neatly his father kept his own. Many battles were fought with the boy’s hair and like all good plans they always ran into a snag. Even when they won, their victory had always found ways to be short lived. His eyes, though, were just like Hubert’s. That tint of greenish yellow, and unlike Jeralt’s they were constantly looking around like there might be something near and hidden. The difference was that Ferdinand sought to find honest adventure and innocent mysteries, unlike his father whose eyes were ever searching for daggers in the dark.

“The young Master Ferdinand wishes to speak with you.” He paused before leaning in, hand to the side of his mouth as if to block Ferdinand out with a whisper. “Made me swear on my honor that I had to tell him when you arrived.”

“Thank you, Walden,” little Ferdinand spoke as he reached into his pocket. Walden did his best to stifle a sigh, knowing what was coming as he put his own hand out. The boy placed a smooth stone in the old man’s palm. “It's one of my bests, Walden. You earned it.”

“Most generous, Master Ferdinand.” Walden slipped the stone into his pocket, no doubt prepared to add it to the rest of his growing collection. “Would anyone here require any of my services before I retire for the night?” 

Hubert cocked an eyebrow at his son, a small smile forming on his lips. He looked back to Walden. “We’ll be alright, Walden. Good night.”

Walden bowed and began to turn away before Ferdinand said, “Actually.” Walden froze. “Would you kindly get me--”

“Good night, Walden.” Hubert interrupted. Walden relaxed yet again and left before anyone would change their minds.

“But Father, I think I paid him quite nicely. Certainly enough to deserve a snack with my comin… cama... commendation?” He looked up his mother, who gave a small nod.

Hubert stepped up to his son and kneeled before him to look him in the eyes. “That’s a big word, even for you. How did you learn it?”

“I heard it from someone and asked Mother to teach me what it means.” 

“From one of the staff,” Byleth clarified. “He was sneaking around and eavesdropping on people again.”

“Oh? Is that so, Ferdinand?” Hubert stared at his son but the boy wouldn’t meet his gaze. Out of the three children, Ferdinand von Vestra was perhaps the most like his father, for better or worse. It wasn’t terribly uncommon for the child to act up in some way but almost always in a manner where Hubert felt like he would be a hypocrite to stop him. Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t participate in the game.

He scooped his son up into an embrace and stood up. He looked back at his wife. “I will set him to bed, give me a moment.” He closed the door behind him and began walking off towards his son’s room.

“You have gotten heavier, and cheekier too might I add. You’re growing.” Hubert reached into his pocket and pulled out a smooth black stone of his own. “All the way from Varley.”

Ferdinand’s eyes widened. It was rare for him to leave the house, so a stone so far out of his reach was like a chunk of gold to him. His father gave a little bit of a wicked grin. “How about we barter? You keep hold of this, but if our staff catches you spying on them again you have to give it back, on your honor as a Vestra.”

His son eagerly reached for the stone. “You're not going to tell me not to do it again?” Hubert smiled.  _ He’s catching on. _

“As your father, I have given you fair warning on my expectations for your behavior. If your mother has to step in next time, I doubt she will word herself as poorly as I have.”

He nodded in understanding as he stared at the stone. “Thank you, Father.” Ferdinand leaned in and hugged his father tightly. Hubert remembered well how his father would handle these sorts of things, often deftly, with his hand. His childhood had been rough, but that didn’t have to be the same for his kids.

He chuckled to himself as he put the boy to bed. He supposed there were worse things that could happen than losing one’s bite.

  
  



End file.
